


Learning To Fly

by LindsayBay



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon and Merle Dixon are Young, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Young Daryl Dixon, Young Merle Dixon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayBay/pseuds/LindsayBay
Summary: Merle teaches Daryl to ride a bike





	Learning To Fly

Daryl’s eyes widened in awe. “Where did ya get that?” he called.

“I found it!” Merle whipped a shitty, spraying dirt all over, then braked to a stop.

It was the most beautiful bicycle Daryl had ever seen. Custom metal-flake paint job with matching glittery banana seat. Chromed ape-hanger handlebars and sissy bars. Pegs on the back wheel. A baseball card clothespinned to the fork so it would get hit by the wheel spokes and make noise like a motorcycle. “Wow,” Daryl breathed.

“Got it for ya.”

“But I don’t know how to ride.”

“ ‘Bout time ya learned, then. Come on.” Merle unslung his gawky teenaged frame from the bike and held it up straight. Daryl cautiously climbed on. The bike was nearly too big for him, but he just managed to reach the pedals. “I’m gonna hold on while ya pedal,” Merle said.

“Ya won’t let me fall over, will ya?”

“Daryl, ya gonna fall over at least once. Ya just gotta get ya butt back on the seat again when tha happens.”

Daryl started pumping his legs as his older brother guided him onto the dirt road that ran in front of the trailer. At first Merle walked next to him, but then the bike sped up enough that he had to move at a trot. “See? Ya doin’ it!”

“Don’t let go yet!” Daryl grinned, feeling the wind in his shoulder-length hair and hearing the crunch of gravel under the tires. He pedaled as hard as he could. The trees lining the road went by faster and faster. His leg muscles started to burn but he didn’t care. This was the most fun he’d had in ages.

Then he realized that Merle had let go. Immediately, the front tire wobbled and the bike went down. Merle came running from some distance back. Daryl sat up and sniffled, wiping at tears.

“Daryl, what did I tell ya ‘bout cryin’?”

“It’s a waste of time and nobody cares.”

“That’s right.” Merle picked the bike up and inspected it. “Got a scratch, but it’s okay. Just like you. Now get back on.”

It took about half an hour more for Daryl to feel secure enough to ride when he knew Merle wasn’t holding him up. After he rode by himself for a while, Daryl got tired, so Merle pedaled while Daryl stood on the pegs with his hands on Merle’s shoulders. Daryl was scared when they reached the crest of the hill that was locally known as the Camel’s Hump, but he was excited, too. The bike went down that hill so fast that his stomach started to feel tickly.

When the two of them started getting hungry, Merle turned back toward home. Not long after he pulled into their yard and put the kickstand down, the sheriff pulled in. Without a word, he grabbed the bike and put it in the back of his squad car, then walked into the trailer. The boys could hear the sheriff’s calm, deep tone, punctuated by their father’s perpetually aggrieved-sounding voice. Five minutes later, the sheriff left. “Merle, get ya sorry ass in here right now!” their father bellowed.

Daryl glanced at Merle, his heart speeding up. Merle punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine.” He grinned his cocky grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked to the door. “It was worth it,” he said softly just before he stepped over the threshold.

………..

Daryl was dropped off by a friend’s rusted-out old pick-up truck. All of his possessions fit into a few cardboard boxes. The only one that really mattered was his crossbow. Merle sat on top of a splintery picnic table in front of the shack that he rented. “Happy eighteenth, li’l brother.  _It’s Independence Day, all boys must run away_ ,” he sang in a passable Springsteen imitation. His feet rested on the bench and a cigarette dangled from one hand. His black leather vest was open over his bare chest. He had a fading bruise on the left side of his jaw. “Ya gonna have to sleep on the couch.”

Daryl shrugged. “Better than staying with dad and his new woman. She’s even meaner than he is.”

“Hey, guess what!” Merle jumped down and turned so Daryl could see the patches on the back of his cut. “Ain’t a prospect any more. I’m a full-fledged Savage Son now.”

Daryl grabbed the Marlboro from his brother’s hand and took a puff. “Think ya hot shit now, huh?”

“Bet I could get ya in as a prospect.”

“Ain’t got no ride.”

Merle snatched his cigarette back and stuck it in his mouth before swaggering over to an old, slumping garage, pushing the door up. “What’s this, then?” Right next to Merle’s Triumph was a Harley Davidson Sportster with a fresh paint job in black. “Ain’t the biggest, ain’t the most powerful. Perfect for a pussy like you.”

“Where’d ya steal that from?”

Merle made a sad-puppy face. “Built it.”

“From stolen parts.” Daryl strolled over and climbed on. “Let’s go!”

Merle looked pained. “Ya can’t just take off cold. Ya gotta let it warm up. Ya this way with women, too?”

“Whatever.”

“Get your butt off there and check the fuel tank first.”

“Ain’t ya filled this thing?”

“ _Always. Check_.”

Daryl sighed. “Fine. It’s full.”

“Get back on. Foot on the brake. Pull the choke. Turn it on. Pull the clutch back. Put it in neutral. No, in  _neutral_ , dumbass. There. Now hold that start button and–there ya go.” It sputtered at first, but then the Sportster settled into the familiar Harley chug. “Gradually push the choke–dammit, don’t just slam it in! Christ, ya must be terrible in bed.” Merle mounted his Triumph and fired it up, letting it run for a couple of minutes.

“How long does this thing have to warm up? I wanna go!” Daryl shouted over the noise of both bikes.

“Catch me!” Merle took off out of the garage.

The road that ran in front of Merle’s shack was perfect for riding, curving among hills and small lakes. Daryl could feel the Sportster lean into the turns. He was grinning so wide that he was at risk of getting bugs in his teeth. He wanted to push the bike and see how fast it could go, but Merle was in just front of him, keeping to a moderate speed. Daryl pulled up beside him so they could ride side by side. He gave Merle a thumb’s up. Merle flipped him off.

They passed through an area that had woods on both sides, separated from the road by ditches full of tall weeds. They rounded a curve and there in the road was a mother possum with several babies hanging onto her back. Startled, Daryl jerked the Sportster toward the side of the road and sent it crashing through the weeds. It hit a tree with a resounding crunch.

“Shit! Daryl! Daryl!” Merle braked and jumped from his Triumph. He knelt down in the weeds next to Daryl’s inert body. “Ya okay? Shit shit fuck!” Daryl just lay there limp, head turned to one side. Merle picked up one of his brother’s hands. “It’s gonna be okay, brother. I’m gonna get help.”

Daryl cracked one eye open. “What ya holdin’ my hand for, pervert?” He sat up, grinning. “I bailed before it hit the tree.”

“Son of a…” Merle’s worry-creased face relaxed, then his eyes went dark as his mouth tightened. He clenched one fist, then shoved Daryl back down flat on his back. He got up and fought his way through the foliage to the bike, shaking his head as he surveyed the damage. “Worked on it for weeks and ya ruin it in half an hour. All because ya got ya panties scared off ya by a possum. Don’t think I’m gonna put ya forward as a prospect for the Savage Sons unless they got a ladies’ auxiliary, Darylina.”

“Shut up, Merlene.”

Merle walked out of the ditch and back to his bike. “Get on the bitch seat, li’l sister. We’re gonna need the truck to take care of that.”

As Daryl got on the Triumph behind Merle, he said, “That was real nice of ya to build me a bike.”

Merle turned and gave his brother a disbelieving look over his shoulder. “Ya sure ya didn’t hit ya head? Sound like a damn Hallmark card all of a sudden.”

“Oops. What I meant to say is, fuck you, Merle.”

“There ya go. Much better.”


End file.
